


The Panic Room

by 0800mia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Derealization, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0800mia/pseuds/0800mia
Summary: A first-person narrative of what Ranboo experienced in his panic room, from the moment he realised his memory book had be altered, to Dream’s voice disappearing once again.This follows Technoblade and Dream’s announcement on how they are going to going to blow up L’Manberg, and how he left that situation to evaluate it on his own.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 3





	The Panic Room

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ranboo in his Panic Room](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/776541) by Ranboo. 



> TW// Derealization and Manipulation 
> 
> Hey! This is my first post on AO3, and therefore my first time writing properly also. This was originally a piece I submitted for my creative writing topic in school, where I got 36/40 marks, but I’m open to any criticism you all have! 
> 
> This is also not exactly like it was on Ranboo’s stream, but my own interpretation. 
> 
> Thank you :)

How did he get it? How did he get the book?

In my hands lay what was remaining: the tough leather cover fermented in powdery charcoal, each frail page seized from the seams, the fractured quill left to bleed out. All I could see was that menace smiley face, written in the same murderous ink, staring at me intensively.

I kept it on me, I kept it on me at all times. How did he get the book?

Looking around, I tried to collect my thoughts. Notes were pinned all around me, reminding me of who I once was... or who I thought I was, at least. I think I’m merely just a play piece in this ongoing game; a game where there’s no winners or losers, just friends. I remember my friends.

The cold obsidian surrounded me like a defence, protecting me from the outside world or maybe protecting the outside world from me. I knew this midnight colour too well, it was like my home, almost comforting. Humming and patterning sounds came from outside the small room as if the beat to a military march: this is supposed to be my safe place, why don’t I feel it anymore?

There was no way he could have got it from me: surely I would have kept it protected? Or at least put up a fight? I just wish I knew how I even ended up here again. 

“Hello?” My eyes glanced around the room briskly, trying to find where the demonic voice came from, but there was no physical being there to be evidence of what I heard. It could only mean one thing; he’s back. 

I clenched my fists, wincing as my knuckles tensed, causing pain to shoot through my hands. Collapsing to the centre of the chamber, I let the limited oxygen in the room fill my lungs once more, trying to stop my head from swirling. Please, how did he get it?

The air that surrounded me was thick, like a gloop that’s only objective was to suffocate me, torture me until I was gone. “How are you back?” I muttered, barely audible for anyone to hear. I couldn’t withstand this, it made my stomach flip and scream, “You’re the reason everything is the way it is, the reason everything is shattering under our feet.” Every part of my body felt so alive but lifeless: the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight like soldiers preparing to fight, and the sweat continued to drip off me. I swear it wasn’t this hot in here when I first came in.

“Do you really believe that?” The voice spoke again in the same cold and occult voice, trying to play the victim. He can’t be, surely, it wouldn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “It was you, you know. It was you who did it.”

Why wouldn’t he just be quiet? Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? I knew it couldn’t be me, I wouldn’t do that to my friends. I couldn’t do that to my friends... they are all that I remember. Thoughts and feelings flew through my head at a hundred miles per hour, invading and corrupting what I thought I knew. In situations like this, I would usually check my book, the book where I keep all my memories, but now it's all gone. A tormenting smiley face had replaced everything I knew.

All I remember is him, it’s as if he’s rewired my brain to make it only think of him. When I think back I remember his actions, his plans, his voice. Nothing else. 

I leant back onto the wall behind me, the rough edges digging into my back. The pulsing sensations that drove through me kept me going, reminding me of what this is all for.

Stretching my fingers out in front of me, I started to count them. 

One, two, surely it was him. 

Three, I wouldn’t choose to hurt my friends, I never would intentionally.

Four, five, six, but it wouldn’t have been intentional, I can’t help what I do when I can’t remember.

Seven, eight. Have I seriously hurt all of those people? Is that who I am now?

Nine. I just want to take it all back, none of this is fair.

Ten… I’ve really betrayed everyone.

The cell enclosed around me as I realised what I’d done. I’d do anything to change this now, but it was just too late. The scrawny signs that surrounded me started to glitch as I blinked, the shades of red, yellow and blue flashing rapidly, the lines of text jumping around hyperactivity. Is it possible to make up for what I’ve done? They won’t react well to my actions, I’ll never be forgiven.

“Please… how can I fix this?” I whispered as the darkness in the room engulfed me and my limbs fell heavy. I could have fixed this, but now the impossible was set in stone. 

His bellowing voice filled the remaining air and my tiny mind, “That’s not for me to tell you, and besides… I’m not even real.”


End file.
